


caught in an updraft

by sharkfish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Asexual Castiel (Supernatural), Asexual Character, M/M, Roommates, Wing Grooming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 09:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19170796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/pseuds/sharkfish
Summary: “I need someone to help with grooming.” Cas looks down and he sounds a little small when he says, “It’s — intimate.”“Ah,” Dean says. “You’re wantin’ to keep your V-card.”





	caught in an updraft

**Author's Note:**

  * For [captainhaterade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhaterade/gifts).



> prompt from [captainhaterade](http://captainhaterade.tumblr.com): _[Ace prompt] how about ace!cas asking for dean’s help dealing with wing stuff? Could be molting (feather loss/vulnerability/no flight/etc), and/or grooming (intimacy/touch/maybe arousal [unwanted?])._
> 
> unbeta'd because yolo.

“I have a favor to ask,” Cas says, and Dean’s eyes leave the tv to peer sideways at Cas. “As you know, I’m not close to any angels.” He takes a deep breath, and Dean just waits him out. “I need help with my wings.”

“Yeah, man,” Dean says without hesitation. “What’s up?” 

“I’m molting,” Cas says, his mouth twisting into a scowl. 

Dean takes a sip of beer to hide a smile. It’s a dick move to enjoy Cas’s irritation, but he’s so fucking _cute_ when he finds something distasteful. Dean takes another drink in an attempt to swallow that thought, too. “Like, uh, shedding your feathers?” 

“I need someone to help with grooming.” Cas looks down and he sounds a little small when he says, “It’s — intimate.”

“Ah,” Dean says. “You’re wantin’ to keep your V-card.” 

Cas smacks him in the arm. Dean knows him well enough by now to see the laughter brightening his eyes. “Don’t put it like that. It’s not even true.” 

“Do we have to have sex?” If it were anyone else, he would say it with a thrill, but it’s Cas. His crush on Cas is about the size of goddamn Texas, but he has a vague inkling that Cas would be very upset if sex is required, and that makes his heart heavy as stone. 

“What?” Cas says, eyes widening. “No! But there can be — expectation, especially among angels that are only acquaintances.” 

Dean has the urge to lean over and kiss Cas’s temple. Maybe the corner of his mouth. Just to say,  _ I like you the way you are.  _ Instead he just says, “No expectations from me.” 

“It’s starting to itch,” Cas says, wiggling his shoulders into the back of the couch. 

“Let’s get to it then, bud,” Dean says, internally grimacing as soon as  _ bud  _ comes out of his mouth. “What’s the best way to do this?” 

“On my stomach, I suppose,” Cas says. “In my bed.” 

Dean leads the way, though it’s weird to turn to the right into Cas’s room and not into his own on the left. There are framed prints of some of Audubon’s birds all over the walls, and Dean reminds himself to finally ask Cas about them later. 

Cas pulls off his shirt and Dean’s momentarily speechless about the faint feather markings covering most of Cas’s back. The lines are so faint as to barely be visible in the late evening light, but they’re like a living thing under his skin, glinting. 

“Step back,” Cas says, and Dean does, almost to the doorway. He murmurs a quick word under his breath and the air goes hazy like a mirage as his wings manifest, then settle into sharp reality. 

Cas’s wings are black. And fucking  _ huge.  _

“Holy shit,” Dean says. 

Cas hunches his back a little, pulling his wings towards himself. “Don’t be cruel.” 

“I’m not, I swear. Is it weird to say they’re beautiful? Because — wow.” 

“They’re too big, I know,” Cas says. “And the wrong color, of course.” 

“You’re such a dork,” Dean says. “You’re so goddamn gorgeous.” 

It must be the faint glow around the edge of almost all of Cas’s feathers — his grace, lighting him up — making Dean say shit he should keep to himself. Cas gives Dean an indecipherable look over his shoulder, then climbs into bed and settles on his stomach, wings draped on either side of the bed and nearly touching the wall on either side. Holy  _ fuck.  _

While Dean stands staring like an idiot, Cas digs out a jar of oil from his bedside table. “Like this,” he says, and demonstrates running his oiled fingers through his feathers, smoothing and aligning them. “The dim ones may just tug out, that’s ok.” 

“Give me a pillow if I’m going to be on my knees,” Dean says. He blushes as soon as it leaves his mouth but, as usual, Cas is oblivious. He passes over a pillow and Dean kneels to get started on the feathers at the furthest tip of Cas’s left wing. 

Cas watches but doesn’t comment so Dean must be doing ok as he uses smears of oil to right Cas’s feathers, one by one. About a third of the way up the first wing, Cas lets out a huge sigh that goes all the way to the tips of his wings, all the tension in his body leaving with it. 

“Doin’ ok?” Dean says, but he can see the answer in the softness of Cas’s face, the way his eyelids have gone a little heavy. 

“It’s nice,” Cas says, muffled a bit in his pillow. 

Dean hums an agreement, realizing he doesn’t remember the last time he touched someone like this, or was touched like this. Without expectation. He’s starting to understand why grooming is intimate — he’s not sure he would want someone to spend this much time touching, cataloguing hm, without the haze of lust to void any insecurities. 

When he can, Dean sits on the bed next to Cas, knee pulled up to reach his feathers easily. As Dean gets closer to crossing over to Cas’s right wing, he can see the feathers closer to Cas’s back are already sodden. 

“Uh—?” Dean says, reaching to stroke his fingers through them. 

“Don’t!” Cas says, wings flapping violently. 

Dean has to jump backwards to avoid a broken nose and he stands next to the bed, staring at Cas with his face hidden in a pillow and his chest heaving for breath. 

“Did I hurt you?” Dean says, trying to keep his voice even and not at all like the shrill fear inside him. 

“No,” Cas says, muffled. He pulls himself to a sitting position, wings tucking in to navigate the room as he turns. He doesn’t look at Dean. “It’s — intimate. I can’t help it. But I don’t — I don’t want —” 

Dean can see his hands are shaking and goes back to his knees in front of Cas. “Hey,” he says gently, taking Cas’s hands in each of his. Weaving their fingers together, squeezing, even though his own are slick with wing oil. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I shouldn’t touch you there?” 

Cas’s head gives a sharp jerk and he says, “Please don’t.” 

“That’s easy enough,” Dean says, ducking his head to offer Cas a smile. “I swear I didn’t know, but now I do. You still wanna do the other one?” 

Cas takes a deep breath and nods before laying back down. Dean starts on the furthest tip of his wing again, and it takes forever for Cas to start relaxing. At some point Dean starts humming under his breath, and when he looks up, Cas is smiling at him. 

“Tell me when to stop,” Dean says when he sits on the bed. 

Cas nods an agreement and then says, “I feel lucky to be your friend.” 

The earnest way he says it makes Dean’s cheeks heat. “I feel lucky you talk to me at all, man.” 

“Stop there,” Cas says. 

Dean pulls his hands away from Cas’s wings, but he’s not ready to stop touching yet, lays a hand flat on the small of Cas’s back. He’s smearing oil everywhere, but he can see the real thing all over Cas’s back, too, just a little higher. 

“Did I do ok for my first time?” Dean says. 

Cas sits up with the kind of boneless lethargy Dean associates with good massages and good orgasms. He squints sideways and says, “It seems one of us  _ has  _ lost our V-card.” 

“I’m comfortable with both my sexual and wing-grooming prowess, thanks.” He wiggles his oily fingers at Cas and says, “Let me get this cleaned up.” 

Cas grabs his elbow. “Dean —” he starts, then leans over to give Dean a soft kiss on the mouth. “Thank you.” 

Dean’s smile is so big he probably looks like an idiot. “You’re welcome,” he says, cupping Cas’s jaw in his hand to share another kiss. 

It’s quiet and chaste, but Dean feels the sparks of Cas’s grace reaching for him, and it feels like a beginning. 

**Author's Note:**

> [reallyelegantsharkfish](http://reallyelegantsharkfish.tumblr.com) on tumblr
> 
> i'm bad at answering comments but every single one is so precious to me and keeps me going on the rough days! <3 thank you for being here!


End file.
